An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Her lungs burn as she blindly weaves between trees, bare feet pounding against the ground.
Was the shaking due to fear, or the cold?
Is the water in her eyes from the rain or her tears?
Kit skids to a stop, toes digging into the dirt and grass. Blood rushes through her ears, crackling in her eardrums.
The hint of realization has her hair stand on end:
Quick random question: does anyone know what is the upper character/word limit for a single document in Ellipsus? Because, huh...
It's definitely up there, and big draft document is getting a bit laggy. I'm having trouble adding more to it on PC, I need to split my text by chapter. I'll probably do that either way, to make my life easier, but that's going to take a while. A+++ on working on my clean final chapters, though. No issues there.
I am done with splitting everything, one "main arc" per document, and everything is WAAAAY more manageable now. It's also going to be much easier for me to go back and refer to previous events, so I say this whole thing was a positive after all.
Quick random question: does anyone know what is the upper character/word limit for a single document in Ellipsus? Because, huh...
It's definitely up there, and big draft document is getting a bit laggy. I'm having trouble adding more to it on PC, I need to split my text by chapter. I'll probably do that either way, to make my life easier, but that's going to take a while. A+++ on working on my clean final chapters, though. No issues there.
Ao3 link here, long text after the readmore: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64810468/chapters/223239156
She can't believe it.
A loose roof tile must have fallen and landed on her head on her way up. Or she must have slipped and cracked her skull on one of these stupid stone steps. Maybe her heart finally gave out from an anxiety induced heart-attack.
It can't seriously have been this easy?
"I've been looking for you everywhere." Kit whispers, still letting the bard shake her hand around.
And then, a moment later:
"How do you know my name?"
Venti laughs, a sound clear as a bell and lighter than air, and brings an arm around her shoulder.
"Oh, you know that one, new friend; the Anemo Archon can hear every word on spoken on the wind. And I happen to be very well connected. No need to give me the long story, no worries there."
"Spoken on the wind? But I was inside, I only told Albedo and Jean."
"Yes, and that was very clever," Venti nods sagely, guiding Kit off to a shaded area, "But where exactly were you when you shared your tale of woes?"
"Inside the—" the Favonius church. The cathedral built to worship the Anemo Archon.
The very Archon looking up at her all innocently, waiting for Kit's two functioning brain cells to shift into gear.
"…Oh."
"There you go! Now everyone is on the same page. Mostly. Now, let's go somewhere more comfortable so we can chat properly, my treat!"
"Seriously?" Kit whines, "But I just got all the way up here!"
"And Angel's Share is all the way down there! And after all that excitement, we've more than earned ourselves a drink. Please?" Venti gives her bright puppy-dog eyes.
Kit shakes her head, but still allow the bard to guide her.
"And what about people," she argues, "won't they hear us?"
"Oh please. I'm a regular. No one is going to pay attention if you're with me." Venti grins, "Besides, I know Sir Kaeya is out in Springvale, and Master Diluc isn't the one manning the bar today, so no one's going to be around trying to snoop in on any sort of senseless, fantastical fairytale a lost bird might have to share."
Kit looks left and right, then up at the clear blue sky before settling her gaze on the bard attempting to pull at the end of her sleeve to admit defeat.
"Fine." she grumbles, much to Venti's delight.
Down the first set of stair, she stops again to ask;
"We just met. Why is it already so easy to talk—to trust you?"
"Divine providence. Natural charisma, my pretty eyes… " Venti bats his lashes at Kit—and wow, those truly are beautiful eyes—"Or maybe it's just your bias. technically, you do already know me. But who could really know, I am but a simple bard, after all."
"And a humble one, too." Kit says flatly.
"You know it!"
---
They soon find their way to one of the only two places in Mondstadt Kit had so far avoided like the plague; The Grand Goth Hotel for its Fatui inhabitants, and this one for her owner, and the suspicions the Darknight Hero may throw at some poor, lost off-worlder like herself.
Venti pushes the door to the Angel's Share open and drags Kit inside, which isn't exactly a change from the way he had pulled her all the way there, pushing ahead with her hand in his, refusing to take any further question or argument without a drink in front of him.
As promised, there is no claymore-swinging redhead standing behind the bar when they step in. Instead, an older man with greying hair pauses his cleaning to welcome them in warmly.
"Hello Charles!" Venti greets the man, "Two glasses of your finest dandelion wine, please!"
Peeking out from behind the bard, Kit hopes she can clearly express her "no thank you, please don't" through body language alone as she is herded up to the top floor, all the way to a table tucked away in a more private corner. Taking a seat, he pats the chair next to him as an invitation.
The bartender is thankfully perceptive, and soon comes up to serve them Venti's wine, as well as a cold glass of apple cider "for the lady."
It's only after Charles is back to his spot behind the bar that Kit turns her attention to the bard once more;
"So…" she starts, "I have questions."
"Naturally. It's not often that you end up in a world that's not your own." Venti nods.
"Why?" at the bard's curious glance, she elaborates, "Why didn't you show up before today? I've been trying to get your attention for a while, now."
"Oh, that? You had it pretty early on. Not many people call Dvalin by that name anymore." he runs a finger along the rim of his cup, a soft, melodious noise ringing out of the glass.
"But you didn't show up?"
"What would you have done then?" Kit blinks, not expecting the sudden question. "You didn't know what to say earlier. And you certainly were in no state to have those questions answered in your first days here."
Six months. Six months of finding her footing in a familiar-yet-not land. Discovering and honing new skills, of building a new life for herself.
Six months, grieving, tossing and turning at night, haunted by the past and what-ifs that have long since gone up in flames. Six. Months. Starting over from ground zero.
"You wanted to give me time." it's a statement more than a question.
"Something like that."
Kit sighs.
"I suppose I can't blame you for that." She holds her cider tightly. "Thanks for waiting until I was mostly ready, I guess."
She takes a long sip of her drink, allowing the taste to overwhelm her senses for a moment. Sweet. Crisp. She'd have to come back and get more later.
"So why…" Kit 's voice trails off. "Why me, then? Why am I here? Billions of people, millions of players, why was I the one to be brought over of all people?"
Of all questions, that one had been the most haunting. The one intrusive thoughts calling in stormy clouds over the joy of discovery. She had been given a place to stay and food to eat. She had been given access to connections and protection, sponsored in her time of need and even offered pay in exchange of helping out in the Favonius Library.
But why was Kit here in the first place?
The whim of some unknown divinity? Glitch in the matrix? A proverbial Truck-Kun punting her into Teyvat like the done and overused isekai cliché it was?
"About that…" the bard draws out his words, shifting left and right, "I have no idea, honestly."
Kit looks up to the Archon, eyes wide.
"What? But you're… how can you not know?"
"Well," Venti says sheepishly, "What I can tell you is that whatever happened to you, it certainly didn't happen from me, or anyone at an Archon's power level. The Seven might be strong on their own, but They certainly are not that strong."
"So you're saying it came from even higher?" Kit's voice cracks.
The bard shrugs, a non-committal escaping his throat. "I mean, maybe? We've never exactly been buddy-buddy with Celestia. More of a need-to-know basis, if even that."
Silence stretches on, uncomfortable. Overwhelming. Venti takes a long sip of his wine and sighs, gathering his thoughts.
"If you absolutely want to know, I would go and take it up with them, but I really, really don't recommend it."
"Huh," is all Kit has to say. "So odds are the others won't have much more to say, no matter who I asked?"
"Rhukka might have been able to sniff out some things—avatar of Irminsul and all— but I've only met her a few times, and if we talk about the Lesser Lord taking over… I don't think any of us has ever met them before they went into seclusion." Venti huffs.
"We don't speak much, nowadays. Beel's still grieving, Buer's been is a no-show while Focalor is too busy running her own shows. Haborym's stuck in an endless waltz with the abyss—"
"—Barbatos is asleep half the time…" Kit jokes.
"Right you are!" The Archon grins proudly. "So you see, the Heavens have got better things to do than to chat with us little pawns."
"You make it sound like the gods aren't worth much in the eyes of Celestia," Kit attempts.
"Dogs on leashes, the lot of us." Venti scoffs, before downing the last of his wine. "Liberation, they called it. They sure didn't like it when Freedom had some reserves."
His eyes grow distant as he brings a hand over his chest, rubbing the heel of his palm against his sternum. Right over the spot someone would soon gleefully dig into to rip out the very leash tethering the god to their heavenly masters.
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, now," Venti lets his head rest against his closed fist, any sign of frustration wiped away in an instant. "You haven't done a single thing wrong, here. It's not exactly your fault Teyvat decided your place was here. Sure, you're scared out of your mind, and you tend to jump at shadows—"
The bard waves off Kit's blustered attempt at a retort;
"What? I'm not lying! Skittish little thing, you are. Only the Abyss Order and the Fatui are scared of Diluc of all people."
"He is!"
"Is not!"
"He definitely is!" Kit whisper-shouts.
"Have you ever met him face-to-face?" Venti teases, "He's a big softie, deep down. Way, way, deep down."
Kit leans back in her seat, arms crossed. "Sure I will. When the stars align."
The bard laughs at that, and leans over the mezzanine's guardrail to ask for more drinks.
They keep on chatting as they wait for their refills, sharing stories and mishaps from their own personal worlds, shooting the breeze until Charles comes back upstairs with new cups, taking away the empty ones.
"Say, Kit," Venti starts once the bartender vanishes down the stairs. "That "Traveler" of yours, can they really save Dvalin?" His voice is quiet, neither happy or sad, simply unsure wether or not he should be allowed hope.
"With help, yes. They manage to purify Dvalin, alleviate Xiao's karmic debt, resist tatarigami…" Kit lists off, "They're good at resisting negative energy. Like, stupidly, impossibly good."
Venti lets out an impressed whistle.
"That's certainly not your everyday outlander—no offense to you, of course."
"None taken." Kit snorts.
---
The hour grows late, night comes and the sky drapes itself under a blanket of stars.
And where Venti could go on for the entire night, Kit's head slowly grows heavier, first tilting to the side, then resting on her hands. The bard finally calls it quit when he catches the little bird next to him taking a bit too long to hold their conversation.
"Alright, there, I think today has been a big enough day. Let's get you home." the bard pulls her out of her seat, and gently guides Kit to the nearest exit.
It's a few streets over that the bard stops to look over his shoulder.
Up on the rooftops, blood red eyes stare town at them through a beaked mask.
Her lungs burn as she blindly weaves between trees, bare feet pounding against the ground.
Was the shaking due to fear, or the cold?
Is the water in her eyes from the rain or her tears?
Kit skids to a stop, toes digging into the dirt and grass. Blood rushes through her ears, crackling in her eardrums.
The hint of realization has her hair stand on end:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
If you were to ask anyone in Liyue Harbor, most people would give you a similar answer:
Mister Zhongli is a completely normal man.
But late in the evening, long after the night market has closed, and after Iron Tongue Tian finished retelling his stories, the last stragglers at Third-Round Knockout tend to whisper...
Birthday fic from 2023 that wanted to put out there
